LIBRARY 

On/versity  of 

caufor  -iia 

SAN  DJEGO 


UNIVERSITY  Uh  UALir-UKr<iA,  omu  l^ii-uw 
LA  JOLLA,  CALIFORNIA 


m§^^ 


f"  THE    ECLOGUES 

OF 
VIRGIL 


%.',. 

<^i:^ 


This  edition  is  a  faithful  reprint 
of  J.  W.  Mackail's  translation  of 
The  Eclogues,  (London,  1S89). 
The  prefatory'  Note,  together  with 
the  Arguments,  are  taken  from 
Sir  Charles  Bowen's  version, 
(London,  18S9).  For  frontispiece, 
Samuel  Palmer's  etching  to  the 
First  Eclogue  has  been  reproduced 
in  Albertype. 


^?k^'^,2i^_is?w,iii3i. 


r>ru. 


•••  0 


VIRGIL 


THE  ECLOGUES 

DONE  INTOENGLISHPROSE 
J    W  MACKAIL 


:^T^i 


PORTLAND  MAINE 

THOMAS  B  MOSHEK 

MDCCCXCVIII 


igi-^S^^ 


m 


,<i^0^.r:^n 


^ ■>"-  ■ — '-— — ■'■^ 


^^:X.r 


CONTENTS. 


I.  TITYRUS 

II.  ALEXIS 

III.  PALAEMOX 

IV.  POLLIO 


™.  ,^        V.      DAPHMS 
j^;       VI.       SILENUS 


V];        VII.       MELIBOEUS 

-H'*/  VIII.      THE  SORCERESS 

ERIS 

X.      GALLUS 


PAGE 

I 
II 

19 

33 
41 
51 
61 

71 
83 
91 


t. 


NOTE. 


AN  English  reader  need  hardly 
be  reminded  that  Virgil  does 
not  intend  in  his  Eclogues  to  imi- 
tate pastoral  life.  His  shepherds 
and  shepherdesses  have  no  more 
claim  to  reality  than  Shakespeare's 
Oberon  and  Titania,  or  the  priest 
and  people  of  the  little  city  in 
Keats's  "  Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn." 
They  are  but  the  material  belong- 
ing to  still  older  art  which  the  poet 
has  taken  to  work  upon.  Virgil's 
generation  saw  around  them  on 
all  sides  the  splendid  products  of 
literary  and  material  art :  exquisite 
mythologies,  poetry  unequalled 
even  yet,  architecture,  statues, 
paintings,  vases,  embroideries, 
gems,  and  ornaments  that  were 
the  delight  of  the  age.     To  repro- 


NOTE 


T 


I 


AW 


duce  in  literature  the  charm  of 
this  antecedent  world  of  beauty, 
and  to  utilise  the  common  literary 
and  intellectual  associations  con- 
nected with  it,  was  the  natural 
function  of  a  genius.  We  see  the 
process  in  Catullus,  in  Virgil,  in 
Milton,  and  in  Keats,  as  we  should 
doubtless  see  it,  if  we  had  an  equal 
opportunity,  in  Komer  and  in 
Theocritus ;  for  the  origins  of 
literature  recede,  like  the  rainbow, 
as  we  approach;  and  the  earliest 
known  poet  has,  we  may  be  sure, 
already  been  bathing  in  some 
distant  and  unseen  Castalia. 
In  Virgil's  Eclogues,  scenery  and 
dramatis  persona:  are  alike  artifi- 
cial. Arcadia,  Thessaly,  Sicily, 
Lombardy,  only  furnish  a  con- 
ventional   ground,  on    which    the 


poet  moves  with  paces  as  dainty 
as  those  of  a  minuet,  introducing 
from  time  to  time  graceful  allu- 
^^  sions  to  himself,  and  to  his  own 
time. 


SIR    CHARLES    BOWEN. 


'Wi^^/'. 


Alike  to  the  humanists  or  the 
earlier  Renaissance,  who  found  in 
them  the  sunrise  of  a  golden  age 
of  poetry  and  the  achievement  of 
the  Latin  conquest  over  Greece, 
and  to  the  more  recent  critics 
of  this  century,  for  whom  they 
represented  the  echo  of  an 
already  exhausted  convention  and 
the  beginning  of  the  decadence  of 
Roman  poetry,  the  Eclogues  have 
been  the  real  turning-point,  not 
only  between  two  periods  of  Latin 
literature,  but  between  two  worlds. 

That  specific  Virgilian  charm  of 
which  these  poems  first  disclosed 
the  secret.  Already  through  their 
immature  and  tremulous  cadences 
there  pierces,  from  time  to  time, 
that  note  of  brooding  pity  which 
is  unique  in  the  poetry  of  the 
world. 

J.    W.    MACK  AIL. 


^?H' 


•.»**;.-.-L^>r^ 


5— .^=-4^-?>?==?PE? 


TITYRUS 


I 


^-'^^r*^  S^^^pk^^^^ 


The  battle  of  Philippi  is  over, 
and  the  soldiers  of  the  victorious 
Triumvirate  are  spreading  over 
the  plains  of  Northern  Italy,  seiz- 
ing upon  the  farms  that  liavc 
been  allotted  to  them,  and  ex- 
propriating the  occupants.  Mel- 
iboeus,  forced  like  other  old 
inhabitants  to  migrate  from  his 
home,  is  wandering  towards  the 
frontier  with  his  goats,  when  he 
finds  the  happy  Tityrus  left  in  un- 
disturbed possession  of  his  lands, 
and  singing  love  songs  under  a 
beech  tree.  Tityrus  explains  that 
he  has  been  to  Rome  and  seen 
the  hero  of  the  hour  (Augustus), 
by  whom  he  has  been  made  a 
freedman  and  confirmed  in  the 
occupation  of  his  old  farm.  Mel- 
iboeus,  less  fortunate,  is  about 
sadly  to  pursue  his  journey,  but 
is  invited  by  Tityrus  to  rest  for 
the  night  at  his  cottage  by  the 
way. 


m 


c02 


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TITYRUS. 

Meliboeus.    Tityrus. 

meliboeus. 

TITYRUS,  thou  where  thou  liest 
under  the  covert  of  spreading 
beech,  broodest  on  thy  slim  pipe 
over  the  Muse  of  the  woodland : 
we  leave  our  native  borders  and 
pleasant  fields;  we  fly  our  native 
land,  while  thou,  Tityrus,  at  ease 
in  the  shade  teachest  the  woods 
to  echo  fair  Amaryllis. 

TITYRUS. 

O  Meliboeus,  a  god  brought  us 
this  peace :  for  a  god  ever  will  he 
be  to  me :  his  altar  a  tender  lamb 
from  our  sheepfolds  shall  often 
stain.  He  granted  that  my  oxen 
might  stray  as  thou  descriest,  and 
myself  play  what  I  would  on  the 
rustic  reed. 


^i*^ 


^^^ 


'.^^?'^?7:r? 


j&- '—''' 


i-s;  /_  i^_:^ii^v>x 


THE  ECLOGUES 


w; 


MELIBOEUS. 

I  envy  not,  I,  rather  I  wonder, 
so  is  all  the  country-side  being 
routed  out.  See,  I  myself  wearily 
drive  forth  my  she-goats;  and  this 
one,  Tityrus,  I  just  drag  along: 
for  here  among  the  hazel  thickets 
she  has  borne  twins,  the  hope  of 
the  flock,  and  left  them,  alas!  on 
the  naked  flints.  Often,  had  a 
mind  not  infatuate  been  mine,  I 
remember  how  lightning-scathed 
oaks  presaged  this  woe  of  ours. 
But  yet  vouchsafe  to  us,  Tityrus, 
who  is  this  god  of  thine. 

TITYRUS. 

The  city  they  call  Rome,  O 
Meliboeus,  I  fancied  in  my  foolish- 
ness like  ours  here,  whither  we 
shepherds  are  often  wont  to  drive 
the  tender  weanlings  of  the  sheep. 
Thus    I    knew     the    likeness    of 


^^:> 


g^«:^^^^^^^ 


v.^i^.>^.V-r.  ^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


puppies  to  dogs,  of  kids  to  their 
mothers:  thus  would  I  compare 
great  things  with  small.  But  she 
bears  her  head  as  high  among  all 
other  cities  as  any  cypress  will  do 
among  trailing  hedgerow  shoots. 

MELIBOEUS. 

And    why   might   nothing    less 
serve  thee  than  seeing  Rome  ? 

TITYRUS. 

For  freedom :  she  at  last  in 
spite  of  all  turned  her  face  upon 
a  slothful  servant,  when  now  the 
beard  was  sprinkled  with  white 
J^  that  fell  under  the  razor :  in  spite 
';/  of  all  she  turned  her  face  and  came 
jti  after  long  delay,  since  Amaryllis 
'f/  holds  us  and  Galatea  has  let  us 
■J  go.  For  I  will  confess  it,  while 
')  Galatea  kept  me,  there  was  no 
ij  hope  of  freedom,  no  thrift  of 
(v    savings:    though   many   a   victim 


^^^m^. 


-^ 


.>- 


THE  ECLOGUES 


went  out  from  my  pens,  and  rich 
cheese  from  my  presses  for  the 
thankless  town,  never  once  did  my 
hand  come  money-laden  home. 

MELIBOEUS. 

I  wondered,  Amaryllis,  why 
thou  calledst  sadly  on  the  gods, 
for  whom  thine  apples  were  left 
hanging  on  the  tree :  Tityrus  was 
away.  The  very  pines,  O  Tityrus, 
the  very  springs  and  orchards  here 
cried  for  thee. 


TITYRUS. 

What  was  I  to  do }  Neither 
might  I  free  myself  from  service, 
nor  elsewhere  know  gods  so  potent 
to  help.  Here  I  saw  the  prince, 
O  Meliboeus,  to  whom  yearly  for 
twice  six  days  the  steam  rises 
from  our  altars :  here  he  gave 
present  reply  to  my  prayer:  Pas- 


^^^''^^^^i^A^' 


.-r<V 


THE  ECLOGUES 


ture   your    oxen    as    of    old,    my 
children,  rear  your  bulls. 

MELIBOEUS. 

Happy  in  thine  old  age!  so  thy 
fields  will  remain  thine,  and  ample 
enough  for  thee,  although  all  the 
pastures  be  covered  with  bare 
stone  or  muddy  rush  of  the  fen. 
Xo  strange  fodder  will  try  the 
breeding  ewes,  or  touch  of  evil 
hurt  them  from  any  neighbour's 
flock.  Happy  in  thine  old  age ! 
here,  amid  familiar  streams  and 
holy  springs  thou  wilt  woo  the 
coolness  of  the  shade :  here  the 
hedge  that  ever  keeps  thy  neigh- 
bour's boundary,  where  bees  of 
Hybla  feed  their  fill  on  the  willow- 
blossom,  shall  often  with  light 
murmuring  lull  thee  into  sleep : 
here  under  the  lofty  rock  shall 
rise  the   leaf-gatherer's   song :  nor 


^Vli 


THE  ECLOGUES 


m 


all  the  while  shall  the  hoarse 
wood-pigeons,  thy  delight,  or  the 
turtle  on  the  elm's  aery  top  cease 
to  moan. 

TITYRUS. 

Therefore  sooner  shall  light 
stags  feed  in  the  sky  and  the  sea- 
channels  leave  the  fishes  naked  on 
the  beach ;  sooner,  over-wandering 
both  their  boundaries,  shall  the 
exiled  Parthian  drink  of  Arar.  or 
Germany  of  Tigris,  than  his  coun- 
tenance shall  fade  from  our  heart. 

MELIBOEUS. 

But  we !  some  shall  pass  hence 
to  thirsty  Africa,  some  reach 
Scythia  and  the  swift  Cretan 
Oaxes,  and  the  Britons  wholly 
sundered  from  all  the  world.  Lo, 
shall  I  ever,  long  in  time  to  come, 
again  in  my  native  borders  marvel 
as  I  see  my  realm  sunk  to  a  poor 


THE  ECLOGUES 


cabin  with  turf-heaped  roof  behind 
a  handful  of  corn  ?  Shall  a  lawless 
soldier  possess  these  trim  fallows  ? 
a  barbarian  these  cornfields  ?  lo, 
to  what  wretched  pass  has  civil 
discord  brought  us!  lo,  for  whose 
profit  we  have  sown  our  fields! 
Engraft  thy  pear  trees  now,  Meli- 
boeus,  set  thy  vines  arow !  Go,  my 
she-goats,  go,  once  happy  flock: 
never  hereafter  shall  I,  stretched 
in  a  green  cave,  see  you  afar 
hanging  from  the  tufted  rock :  no 
songs  shall  I  sing;  not  in  my 
herding  shall  you,  my  she-goats, 
crop  the  flowering  cytisus  and 
bitter  willows. 


TITYRUS. 

Yet  here  for  to-night  thou 
mightst  rest  with  me  on  green 
boughs :  we  have  mellow  apples 
and   soft   chestnuts,   and  curdled 


5;^^^ 


8 


THE  ECLOGUES 


milk  in  abundance ;  and  already 
afar  the  farm  roofs  smoke,  and 
the  shadows  fall  larger  from  the 
high  hills. 


_^rfc,v_^- 


h. 


fc 


•^^c^r^^itsu:.^ 


ALEXIS 


The  shepherd  Corydon  lias  set 
his  heart  upon  the  friendship  of 
Alexis,  who,  as  the  favourite  slave 
of  lolla,  his  master,  scorns  the 
advances  of  so  humble  an  ad- 
mirer.   Corydon  complains. 


'3| 


II. 

ALEXIS. 

THE  shepherd  Corydon  burned 
for  fair  Alexis,  his  master's 
darling,  and  found  no  hope :  only 
among  the  thick  shady-topped 
beeches  he  would  continually 
come,  and  there  alone  utter  in 
idle  passion  these  artless  words  to 
the  hills  and  woods. 

O  cruel  Alexis,  carest  thou 
nought  for  my  songs.''  hast  no 
pity  on  us  ?  thou  wilt  be  my  death 
at  the  last.  Now  even  the  cattle 
woo  the  shade  and  coolness,  now 
even  the  green  lizards  hide  in  the 
thorn  brakes ;  and  Thestylis  is 
bruising  garlic  and  wild  thyme, 
strong-smelling  herbs  for  the  mow- 
ers wearied  with  the  fierce  heat : 
but  for  all  my  company,  as  I  trace 
thy  footsteps,  the  copses  ring  with 
crickets  jarring  under  the  blazing 


^. 


y'sZ 


>7 


THE  ECLOGUES 


sun.  Was  it  not  better  to  bear 
Amaryllis  with  all  her  sour  dis- 
pleasures and  haughty  scorns  ?  or 
Menalcas,  though  he  were  dark, 
though  thou  wert  white?  O  fair 
boy,  trust  not  overmuch  to  colour ; 
creamy  privet-blossoms  fall,  dark 
hyacinths  are  gathered.  I  am 
scorned  of  thee,  nor  dost  thou  ask 
what  I  am,  Alexis,  how  rich  in 
flocks,  how  abounding  in  snowy 
milk.  A  thousand  lambs  of  mine 
Vv'ander  on  Sicilian  hills :  fresh 
milk  fails  me  not  at  midsummer 
nor  in  the  frost.  I  sing  as  he  was 
wont  when  he  called  his  oxen 
home,  Amphion  of  Dirce  in  Ac- 
taean  Aracynthus.  Neither  am  I 
so  foul  to  view :  of  late  I  saw  my- 
self on  the  shore,  when  the  sea 
stood  in  windless  calm;  I  will  not 
fear  Daphnis  in  thy  judgment,  if 
the   mirror  cannot  lie.     Ah  that 


THE  ECLOGUES  1 3 

thou  wouldst  but  care  to  be  with 
me  in  the  rough  country,  to  dwell 
in  low  cots,  to  shoot  the  deer,  or 
drive  a  flock  of  kids  to  the  green 
mallow  bed.  With  me  in  the 
woods  together  thou  shalt  copy 
Pan  in  singing ;  Pan  first  taught 
to  join  with  wax  the  row  of  reeds  : 
Pan  is  guardian  of  the  sheep  and 
of  the  shepherds.  Nor  let  it 
repent  thee  to  run  thy  tender 
lip  along  the  reeds :  to  know 
this  same  art  what  did  Amyntas 
leave  undone?  I  have  a  pipe 
joined  of  seven  unequal  hemlock- 
stalks,  a  gift  that  Damoetas  once 
gave  me,  and  said  as  he  died : 
Now  hath  it  thee  for  second  mas- 
ter. Damoetas  said  it:  stupid 
Amyntas  was  jealous.  Further- 
more two  fawns,  and  in  a  perilous 
ravine  I  found  them,  with  skin 
even   yet    white-dappled,    drain    a 


II 


f 


14 


THE  ECLOGUES 


ewe's  udders  twice  a  day;  and  I 
keep  them  for  thee.  This  long 
time  Thestylis  begs  them  to  take 
away  from  me,  and  she  shall,  since 
our  gifts  are  graceless  in  thine 
eyes.  Come  hither,  O  fair  boy ; 
for  thee  lo !  the  Nymphs  bring 
baskets  full  of  lilies ;  for  thee  the 
white  Naiad  plucks  pale  violets 
and  poppy  heads,  and  adds  the 
narcissus  and  the  fragrant  anise- 
flower,  and  entwining  them  with 
casia  and  other  sweet-scented 
herbs,  spangles  soft  hyacinth- 
posies  with  yellow  marigold. 
Myself  will  gather  quinces  with 
delicate  silvery  bloom,  and  the 
chestnuts  that  my  Amaryllis  loved, 
and  waxen  plumes  withal:  this 
fruit  likewise  shall  have  his  hon- 
our: and  you  will  I  pluck,  O 
laurels,  and  thee,  bordering  myrtle, 
since  so  set  you  mingle  your  fra- 


THE  ECLOGUES 


15 


grant  sweets.  Thou  art  a  country 
boor,  O  Corydon !  nor  does  Alexis 
heed  thy  gifts :  nor  if  the  contest 
be  of  gifts  may  lollas  yield  to 
thee.  Alas,  alas,  what  have  I 
brought  on  my  luckless  head  ?  I 
have  loosed  the  tempest  on  my 
blossoms,  woe's  me,  and  the  wild 
boars  on  my  crystal  springs.  From 
whom  fliest  thou,  ah  infatuate? 
Gods  likewise  have  dwelt  in  the 
woodland,  and  Paris  of  Dardania. 
Pallas  may  keep  the  city  towers 
that  herself  hath  built :  us  before 
all  else  let  the  woodland  satisfy. 
The  grim  lioness  pursues  the  wolf, 
the  wolf  in  turn  the  she-goat ;  the 
wanton  she-goat  pursues  the  flow- 
ering cytisus ;  as  Corydon  does 
thee,  O  Alexis,  each  drawn  by  his 
own  delight.  See,  the  bullocks 
return  with  the  ploughs  tilted  from 
the   yoke,   and    the    sinking   sun 


&^ 


rO^ 


\t 


i6 


THE  ECLOGUES 


M- 


doubles  the  lengthening  shadows  : 
yet  me  love  burns ;  for  what  bound 
may  be  set  to  love  ?  Ah  Corydon, 
Corydon,  what  madness  has  caught 
thee  ?  thy  vine  hangs  half  unpruned 
on  her  leaf-laden  elm.  Nay  but 
rather  at  least  something  of  all 
that  daily  work  needs,  set  thou  to 
weave  of  osiers  or  soft  rushes :  if 
he  scorns  thee,  thou  wilt  find 
another  Alexis. 


..^.T^^^.^._ 


'Vyy^'^j-'-i^— ^  \ir-x  ^  -,  -■v.x--»  ^  — -,;i 


'U 


t 


III 

PALAEMON 


Meualcas  and  Damoetas,  two 
herdsmen,  meet.  After  an  inter- 
change of  rustic  taunts  and  incivil- 
ities, they  agree  to  sing  for  a  wager 
against  each  other,  Palaemon,  who 
is  passing,  to  be  umpire.  The 
competitors  chant  alternate  coup- 
lets, and  at  the  end  of  the  match 
Palaemon  professes  himself  un- 
able to  decide. 

A  compliment  to  PoUio,  Virgil's 
friend  and  patron,  who  is  a  poet 
himself  as  well  as  a  general,  is 
found  embedded  among  the  lines, 
and  each  of  the  rivals  closes  the 
encounter  with  a  conundrum  in 
verse. 


III. 


PALAEMON. 

Menalcas.        Damoetas. 
^  Palaemon. 


T 


MENALCAS. 

ELL  me,  Damoetas,  who  is  the 
flock's  master?     Meliboeus? 

DAMOETAS. 

No,  but  Aegon :  Aegon  gave  it 
of  late  to  my  keeping. 

MENALCAS. 

Poor  sheep,  ever  a  luckless 
flock !  while  the  master  clings  by 
Neaera  and  dreads  lest  she  prefer 
me  before  him,  this  hireling  shep- 
herd milks  the  sheep  twice  an 
hour:  the  juice  is  stolen  from  the 
flock,  the  milk  from  the  lambs. 

DAMOETAS. 

Yet  remember  to  be  more  spar- 
ing in  thy  jeers  at  men.     We  know 


■,.,-..-~A^: 


.    A'v. 


■:^^^^-'^^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


by  whom  thou,  while  the  he-goats  ,  i* 

peered     sideways — and    in    what  ,  1 

shrine,  though   the  easy  Nymphs  > 

laughed.  ^   >'. 

MENALCAS.  ;« 

Then,  I  think,  when  they   saw        j 
me  slashing  Micon's  orchard  and        3 
nursery  vines  with  jealous  hedge- 
bill. 

DAMOETAS. 

Yes,  or  here  by  the  old  beeches, 
where  thou  brakest  Daphnis'  bow 
and  reeds :  for  thou  didst  grieve, 
wicked  Menalcas,  when  thou 
sawest  them  given  to  the  boy, 
and  it  was  death  to  thee  if  thou 
couldst  not  somehow  have  done 
him  harm. 

MENALCAS. 

What  can  the  masters  do,  when 
the  knaves  make  so  free.?  Did 
I  not  see  thee,  villain,  catching 
Damon's  goat  from  ambush  while 


THE  ECLOGUES 


the  sheep-dog  barked  aloud  ?  and 
when  I  cried  :  Where  is  he  running 
off  to  now?  Tityrus,  gather  the 
flock!  thou  didst  hide  behind  the 
sedges. 

DAMOETAS. 

Was  not  he  whom  I  conquered 
in  singing  to  yield  the  goat  that 
my  tuneful  pipe  had  won  ?  If 
thou  must  be  told,  the  goat  was 
mine,  as  Damon  himself  confessed 
to  me,  but  said  he  could  not  give 
it  up. 

MEXALCAS. 

Thou  him  in  singing .''  or  hadst 
thou  ever  a  waxen-bound  pipe  ? 
Wert  not  wont  in  the  cross-roads, 
blockhead,  to  mangle  a  wretched 
tune  on  a  grating  straw  .'* 

DAMOETAS. 

Wilt  thou  then  we  put  to  proof 
between  us  in  turn  what  each  can 


^ 


;i7!  Wr 


THE  ECLOGUES 


do  ?  I  stake  this  heifer — lest 
haply  thou  draw  back,  she  comes 
twice  to  the  milking  pail  and 
withal  feeds  two  calves  from  her 
udder — say  thou  what  thou  wilt 
stake  with  me  in  the  strife. 


MENALCAS. 

Of  the  flock  I  dare  not  stake 
aught  with  thee:  for  I  have  a 
father  at  home,  and  a  wicked 
stepmother,  and  twice  a  day  both 
count  the  flock,  and  one  of  them 
the  kids.  But,  what  thyself  wilt 
confess  far  excels  it,  since  be  mad 
thou  wilt — I  will  stake  cups  of 
beech  wood,  carved  work  of  the 
divine  Alcimedon,  where  a  cling- 
ing vine  raised  by  his  light  graver 
enfolds  pale  ivy  with  her  scattered 
berries.  In  the  middle  are  two 
figures,  Conon,  and  who  was  that 
other  whose  compass  marked  out, 


^lOv 


i^?jr>i^y 


-CV- 


^-.-^'' 


^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


23 


on  all  the  peopled  globe,  what 
seasons  the  reaper,  what  the 
bendmg  ploughman  should  keep  ? 
Nor  yet  have  I  put  lip  to  them, 
but  keep  them  laid  by. 

DAMOETAS.  "" 

And  for  us  too  Alcimedon  made 
two  cups,  and  wreathed  the  handles 
round  with  soft  acanthus;  and  in 
the  middle  set  Orpheus  and  the 
following  woods :  nor  yet  have  I 
put  lip  to  them,  but  keep  them 
laid  by.  If  thou  lookest  to  the 
heifer  in  comparison,  small  praise 
is  in  the  cups. 

MENALCAS. 

Not  to-day  shalt  thou  escape 
me  :  I  will  come  anywhere  to  thy 
challenge.  Let  one  but  hear  us 
now — even  he  who  approaches,  lo ! 
Palaemon.  I  will  make  thy  voice 
henceforth  cease  from  troubling. 


4^ 


W^r  t 


24 


THE  ECLOGUES 


DAMOETAS. 

Nay  come  with  what  thou  hast, 
there  shall  be  no  delay  with  me : 
nor  do  I  shrink  from  any  one: 
only,  neighbour  Palaemon,  this  is 
no  small  matter,  lay  it  well  to 
heart. 

PALAEMON. 

Say  on ;  since  we  are  seated  on 
soft  grass,  and  now  all  the  field, 
now  all  the  tree  is  burgeoning, 
now  the  woodland  is  leafy,  now  is 
the  fairest  of  the  year.  Begin, 
Damoetas :  thou  shalt  follow  on, 
Menalcas:  you  shall  sing  turn  by 
turn  as  the  Muses  love. 


DAMOETAS. 


From  Jove  is  the  Muse's  begin- 
ning :  all  things  are  full  of  Jove. 
He  keeps  the  world:  he  gives  ear 
to  my  songs. 


^' 


^  -..^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


25 


k. 


MENALCAS. 

And  me  Phoebus  loves :  Phoe- 
bus' own  gifts  are  ever  by  me,  bays 
and  the  sweet  flushed  hyacinth. 

DAMOETAS. 

Galatea,  playful  maid,  throws 
an  apple  at  me,  and  runs  to  the 
willows,  and  desires  that  she  first 
be  seen. 

MENALCAS. 

But  my  flame  Amyntas  comes 
to  me  unbidden :  insomuch  that 
now   our    dogs    know  not    Delia 

better. 

DAMOETAS, 

Gifts  are  got  for  my  love :  for 
myself  have  marked  the  spot 
where  the  wood-pigeons  have  built 
aloft. 

MENALCAS. 

What  I  could  I  have  sent  to 
the  boy,  ten  golden  apples  plucked 


26 


THE  ECLOGUES 


from  the  woodland  tree;  to-morrow 
I  will  send  as  many  more. 

DAMOETAS. 

0  the  times  and  the  words  that 
Galatea  has  spoken  to  us!  carry 
but  a  little  thereof,  ye  winds,  to 
the  gods'  ears. 

MENALCAS. 

What  boots  it  that  thou  scorn 
me  not  in  thine  heart,  Amyntas,  if 
while  thou  huntest  the  boar  I  am 
keeper  of  the  nets  } 

DAMOETAS. 
Send  me  my   Phyllis  :  it  is  my 
birthday,  O  lollas :   when  I  shall 
offer  a  young  heifer  for  the  crops, 
come  thyself. 

MENALCAS. 

1  love  Phyllis  before  all  women : 
for  she  wept  at  my  going,  and 
cried,  My  fair  one,  goodbye  and  a 
long  goodbye,  O  lollas. 


^  THE  ECLOGUES  27 

DAMOETAS. 

A  sad  thing  is  the  wolf  among 
the  pens,  rains  on  ripe  cornfields, 
the  winds  in  the  trees,  as  Amaryl- 
lis' anger  to  us. 

MENALCAS. 

A  sweet  thing  is  moisture  to  the 
crops,    arbutus    to    weanling  kids, 
the  pliant  willow  to  the  breeding 
;     herd,  as  Amyntas  alone  to  me. 

I  DAMOETAS. 

'  Pollio    loves    our   Muse,   rustic 

though  she  be :  maids   of   Pieria, 
feed  a  heifer  for  your  reader. 

MENALCAS. 

.  Pollio  himself  too   makes   new 

'i  songs  :  feed  a  bull,  soon  to  strike 

I  with  his  horn  and  scatter  the  sand 

j  with  his  feet. 

/  DAMOETAS. 

Let  him  who  loves  thee,  Pollio, 


28  THE  ECLOGUES 


come  where  thou  too  takest  de- 
light :  let  honey  flow  for  him,  and 
the  rough  briar  yield  him  spice. 

MENALCAS. 

Who  hates  not  Bavius,  let  him 
love  thy  songs,  O  Maevius,  and 
withal  yoke  foxes  and  milk  he- 
goats. 

DA  MO  ETAS. 

Gatherers  of  flowers  and  ground- 
strawberries,  fly  hence,  O  children, 
a  cold  snake  lurks  in  the  grass. 

MENALCAS. 

Stay,  my  sheep,  from  too  far 
advance :  ill  is  it  to  trust  the  bank  : 
the  lordly  ram  even  now  dries  his 
fleece. 

DAMOETAS. 

Tityrus,  put  back  the  grazing 
kids  from  the  river:  myself,  when 
the  time  comes,  will  wash  them  all 
in  the  spring. 


THE  ECLOGUES 


29 


MENALCAS. 


Fold  the  sheep,  children :  if  the 
heat  steals  the  milk,  as  of  late, 
vainly  shall  we  squeeze  the  udders 
in  our  hands. 


DAMOETAS. 


Alas,  alas,  how  lean  is  my  bull 
among  the  juicy  tares :  the  same 
love  is  death  to  herd  and  to 
herdsman. 


MENALCAS. 

With  these  assuredly  love  is  not 
to  blame  :  their  bones  hardly  cling 
together:  some  evil  eye  is  cast  on    ,   y^ 
my  tender  lambs. 

DAMOETAS. 

Tell  in  what  lands  (and  thou 
shalt  be  to  me  as  great  Apollo) 
three  fathoms  and  no  more  of 
open  sky  are  seen. 


.^r 


30 


THE  ECLOGUES 


MENALCAS. 

Tell  in  what  lands  flowers  are 
born  engraven  with  names  of 
kings,  and  have  Phyllis  for  thine 
alone. 

l^ALAEMON, 

Us  it  skills  not  to  determine 
this  strife  between  you  :  both  thou 
and  he  are  worthy  of  the  heifer, 
and  whosoever  shall  shrink  at 
Love's  sweetness  or  taste  his  bit- 
terness. Shut  off  the  rivulets 
now,  my  children :  the  meadows 
have  drunk  their  fill. 


n^T^inj\: 


.n^ 


>^  _^^  ffjl^ 


IV 

POLLIO 


1 


It  was  a  dream  of  the  Augustan 
poets— based  on  a  Sibylline  pre- 
diction—  that  the  universe  had 
completed  nine  great  cycles, 
commencing  with  the  golden 
and  ending  with  the  iron  age. 
Then,  under  the  auspices  of 
Phoebus  Apollo  — brother  of 
Lucina  (Diana)— the  world's 
great  age  was  to  begin  anew  and 
the  golden  years  to  return.  The 
Eclogue  conceives  of  the  new 
cycle  as  ushered  in  with  the  birth 
of  an  illustrious  child,  supposed 
by  many  critics  to  be  the  son 
of  PoUio,  and  to  have  been  born 
during  his  consulship;  by  others 
the  young  Marcellus,  the  nephew 
and  adopted  son  of  Augustus. 
As  the  boy  grows  to  manhood 
the  golden  age  progresses,  passes 
through  a  second  Heroic  period, 
and  closes  in  universal  peace. 
The  fancy  of  theologians  in  days 
gone  by  was  fond  of  discovering 
in  the  language  of  tlie  poem, 
compared  with  that  of  Scripture, 
and  in  the  references  to  the  virgin, 
tlie  boy,  the  snake,  &c.,  an  uncon- 
scious anticipation  of  the  Messiah. 


..^^ 


'•^ii 


IV. 

POLLIO. 

MUSES  of  Sicily,  sing  we  a 
somewriat  ampler  strain : 
not  all  men's  delight  is  in  coppices 
and  lowly  tamarisks :  if  we  sing  of 
the  woods,  let  them  be  woods 
worthy  of  a  Consul. 

Now  is  come  the  last  age  of 
the  Cumaean  prophecy  :  the  great 
cycle  of  periods  is  born  anew. 
Now  returns  the  Maid,  returns  the 
reign  of  Saturn :  now  from  high 
heaven  a  new  generation  comes 
down.  Yet  do  thou  at  that  boy's 
birth,  in  whom  the  iron  race  shall 
begin  to  cease,  and  the  golden  to 
arise  over  all  the  world,  holy 
Lucina,  be  gracious ;  now  thine 
own  Apollo  reigns.  And  in  thy 
consulate,  in  thine,  O  Pollio,  shall 
this  glorious  age  enter,  and  the 
great  months  begin  their  march  : 


T'n^ 


34 


THE  ECLOGUES 


under  thy  rule  what  traces  of  our 
guilt  yet  remain,  vanishing  shall 
free  earth  for  ever  from  alarm. 
He  shall  grow  in  the  life  of  gods, 
and  shall  see  gods  and  heroes 
mingled,  and  himself  be  seen  by 
them,  and  shall  rule  the  world  that 
his  fathers'  virtues  have  set  at 
peace.  But  on  thee,  O  boy,  un- 
tilled  shall  Earth  first  pour  childish 
gifts,  wandering  ivy-tendrils  and 
foxglove,  and  colocasia  mingled 
with  the  laughing  acanthus :  un- 
tended  shall  the  she-goats  bring 
home  their  milk-swoln  udders,  nor 
shall  huge  lions  alarm  the  herds: 
unbidden  thy  cradle  shall  break 
into  wooing  blossom.  The  snake 
too  shall  die,  and  die  the  treacher- 
ous poison-plant:  Assyrian  spice 
shall  grow  all  up  and  down.  But 
when  once  thou  shalt  be  able  now 
to  read  the  glories  of  heroes  and 


fe}:^ 


'J 


THE  ECLOGUES  35 

thy  fathers'  deeds,  and  to  know 
Virtue  as  she  is,  slowly  the  plain 
shall  grow  golden  with  the  soft 
corn-spike,  and  the  reddening 
grape  trail  from  the  wild  briar, 
and  hard  oaks  shall  drip  dew  of 
honey.  Nevertheless  there  shall 
linger  some  few  traces  of  ancient 
wrong,  to  bid  ships  tempt  the  sea 
and  towns  be  girt  with  walls  and 
the  earth  cloven  in  furrows.  Then 
shall  a  second  Tiphys  be,  and  a 
second  Argo  to  sail  with  chosen 
heroes :  new  wars  too  shall  arise, 
and  again  a  mighty  Achilles  be  sent 
to  Troy.  Thereafter,  when  now 
strengthening  age  hath  wrought 
thee  into  man,  the  very  voyager 
shall  cease  out  of  the  sea,  nor  the 
sailing  pine  exchange  her  mer- 
chandise :  all  lands  shall  bear  all 
things,  the  ground  shall  not  suffer 
the   mattock,    nor    the    vine    the 


wc^i:^^::^ 


36 


THE  ECLOGUES 


pruning-hook ;  now  likewise  the 
strong  ploughman  shall  loose  his 
bulls  from  the  yoke.  Neither 
shall  wool  learn  to  counterfeit 
changing  hues,  but  the  ram  in  the 
meadow  himself  shall  dye  his 
fleece  now  with  soft  glowing  sea- 
purple,  now  with  yellow  saffron ; 
native  scarlet  shall  clothe  the 
lambs  at  their  pasturage.  Run 
even  thus,  O  ages,  said  the  har- 
monious Fates  to  their  spindles, 
by  the  steadfast  ordinance  of 
doom.  Draw  nigh  to  thy  high 
honours  (even  now  will  the  time 
be  come)  O  dear  offspring  of  gods, 
mighty  germ  of  Jove !  Behold 
the  world  swaying  her  orbed  mass, 
lands  and  spaces  of  sea  and  depth 
of  sky;  behold  how  all  things 
rejoice  in  the  age  to  come.  Ah 
may  such  length  of  life  in  her 
latter    end    be    mine,    and    such 


!^  ..^^.^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


breath  as  shall  suffice  to  tell  thy 
deeds!  Not  Orpheus  of  Thrace 
nor  Linus  shall  surpass  me  in 
song,  though  he  have  his  mother 
and  he  his  father  to  aid,  Orpheus 
Calliope,  Linus  beautiful  Apollo. 
If  even  Pan  before  his  Arcady 
contend  with  me,  even  Pan  before 
his  Arcady  shall  declare  himself 
conquered.  Begin,  O  little  boy,  to 
know  and  smile  upon  thy  mother, 
thy  mother  on  whom  ten  months 
have  brought  weary  longings.  Be- 
gin, O  little  boy:  on  whom  no 
parent  has  smiled,  never  was  he 
honoured  at  a  god's  board  or  in  a 
goddess'  bed. 


^-1. 


■-fL-;k.^-^ii^y~L.~S- 


'^\ 


<\7 


.a-, 


V 
DAFHNIS 


Two  shepherds,  Menalcas  and 
Mopsus,  repair  to  a  shady  cavern, 
and  sing  by  turns  together.  The 
subject  of  their  songs  is  the  dead 
Daphnis.  Mopsus  laments  over 
him  as  cruelly  slain.  Menalcas 
chants  his  apotheosis,  and  de- 
cribed  him  as  raised  to  the 
heavens  and  newly  added  to  the 
number  of  the  gods.  It  is  prob- 
able that  under  the  fanciful  char- 
acter of  Daphnis  the  poet  intends 
to  honour  the  memory  of  Julius 
Caesar,  recently  assassinated,  and 
still  more  recently  decreed  divine 
honours  by  the  Triumvirs. 


V. 
DAPHNIS. 

Menalcas.     Mopsus. 
menalcas. 

WHY  not,  O  Mopsus,  since  we 
are  met  so  good  a  pair, 
thou  to  breathe  in  the  slim  reeds, 
I  to  utter  the  verses,  sit  down 
here  among  the  mingled  elms  and 
hazels? 

MOPSUS. 

Thou  art  the  older:  it  is  fit  I 
should  obey  thee,  Menalcas,  wheth- 
er where  western  breezes  shift  the 
flickering  shadows  or  rather  the 
cavern  be  our  resting-place.  See, 
how  over  the  cavern  the  woodland 
wild  vine  scatters  her  thin  clusters.    sAhj 

MEXALCAS.  -ftll 

On  our  hills  Amyntas  alone 
may  contend  with  thee. 


42 


THE  ECLOGUES 


f 


MOPSUS. 

What  if  he  even  contend  to 
excel  Phoebus  in  song? 

MEXALCAS. 

Begin,  O  Mopsus,  first,  if  thou 
hast  aught  of  flames  for  Phyllis 
or  praises  of  Alcon  or  flouts  at 
Codrus.  Begin  :  Tityrus  will  keep 
the  grazing  kids. 

MOPSUS. 

Nay,  the  songs  I  have  newly 
written  down  on  green  beech  bark 
and  marked  the  music  between 
the  lines,  these  will  I  essay :  thou 
thereafter  bid  Amyntas  enter  the 
contest. 

MENALCAS. 

Even  as  the  pliant  osier  yields 
to  the  grey  olive,  as  the  low 
scented  reed  to  the  crimson  rose- 
plots,  so  far  by  our  judgment 
Amyntas  yields  to  thee. 


h 


THE  ECLOGUES  43        ^ 


MOPSUS. 

But  cease  thou  further,  O  boy: 
we  have  reached  the  cavern. 

Dead  Daphnis  cruelly  slain  the 
Nymphs  wept;  you,  O  hazels  and 
rivers,  were  the  Nymphs'  wit- 
nesses; while  clasping  her  son's 
wretched  corse,  his  mother  calls 
on  gods  and  stars  that  pity  not. 
None  in  those  days,  Daphnis,  drove 
the  pastured  oxen  to  cool  streams; 
no  four-footed  thing  tasted  the 
river  nor  touched  the  grassy  sward. 
Daphnis,  the  wild  hills  and  the 
woodlands  repeat  how  even  Punic 
lions  bemoaned  thy  decease. 
Daphnis  ordered  the  harnessing 
of  Armenian  tigresses  to  the  car; 
Daphnis  the  processions  of  Bac- 
chus' revellers  and  the  soft  leafage 
wound  round  their  supple  shafts. 
As  the  vine  adorns  her  tree,  as 
her  grapes  the  vine;  as  bulls  the 


r 


a^-r^:.'^ 


44 


THE  ECLOGUES 


herds,  as  corn  the  rich  fields ;  so 
thou  art  all  the  ornament  of  thy 
people;  since  the  Fates  reft  thee, 
Pales  and  Apollo  themselves  have 
left  the  country  desolate.  In  the 
furrows  where  we  often  have 
bestowed  the  large  barley,  fruitless 
darnel  and  barren  wild  oats  spring  : 
instead  of  soft  violet  and  shining 
narcissus  rises  the  thistle  and  the 
thorn  with  his  keen  spines.  Strew 
the  ground  with  leaves,  train  shade 
over  the  springs,  O  shepherds : 
Daphnis  bids  such  remembrance 
be  done  to  him ;  and  pile  a  mound, 
and  over  the  mound  add  a  verse : 
I  am  Daphnis  the  forester,  known 
from  here  even  to  the  heavens, 
keeper  of  a  fair  flock,  myself  more 
fair  than  they. 

MENALCAS. 

Such    is    thy   song    unto   us,   O 
divine  poet,  as  sleep  to  the  weary 


THE  ECLOGUES 


45 


on  the  grass,  as  quenching  of  thirst 
in  the  heat  from  a  gushing  rivulet 
of  sweet  water.  Nor  on  the  reeds 
alone,  but  with  voice  too,  thou 
equallest  thy  master:  happy  boy, 
thou  shalt  now  be  next  to  him. 
Yet  we  in  turn  will  sing  thee  these 
songs  of  ours  even  as  best  we  may, 
and  raise  thy  Daphnis  into  the 
sky :  we  will  ensky  thy  Daphnis, 
for  us  also  Daphnis  loved. 

MOPSUS. 

And  might  aught  be  higher  in 
our  eyes  than  such  a  gift  ?  Both 
the  boy  himself  was  worthy  the 
singing,  and  these  verses  of  thine 
Stimicon  long  since  commended 
to  us. 

MENALCAS. 

Clad  in  light,  Daphnis  marvels 
at  Heaven's  untrodden  floor  and 
sees    the    clouds    and    the    stars 


cO-^^ 


46 


THE  ECLOGUES 


^ 


i 
1 


^.ii'i^R 


beneath  his  feet.  Therefore  gay 
pleasure  reigns  in  the  forest  and 
all  the  countryside,  among  Pan 
and  the  shepherds  and  the  Dryad 
maidens.  Neither  does  the  wolf 
plot  ambushes  to  the  flock  nor 
any  hunting-nets  ensnarement  of 
the  deer:  gentle  Daphnis  loves 
peace.  The  unshorn  mountains 
themselves  cast  echoes  of  gladness 
to  the  skies ;  the  very  rocks,  the 
very  copses  now  resound  in  song : 
A  god,  a  god  is  he,  O  Menalcas. 
Ah  be  gracious  and  prosperous  to 
thine  own :  see,  four  altars,  two, 
lo !  Daphnis,  to  thee,  two  for 
altars  of  offering  to  Phoebus: 
double  cups  frothing  with  fresh 
milk  yearly,  and  ^two  bowls  of  the 
fatness  of  the  olive  will  I  lay 
before  thee  ;  and  above  all  making 
the  banquet  glad  with  much  wine, 
before  the  hearth  in  the  cold  sea- 


^r\ 


':-T,_ 


:> 


THE  ECLOGUES 


47 


son,  in  harvest  beneath  the  shade, 
I  will  pour  from  flagons  the  fresh 
nectarof  Ariusian  wine.  Damoetas 
and  Lyctian  Aegon  shall  sing  to 
me  :  Alphesiboeus  shall  mimic  the 
leaping  Satyrs.  This  shall  ever 
be  thine,  both  when  we  pay  the 
Nymphs  our  accustomed  vows  and 
when  we  purify  our  fields.  While 
the  wild  boar  and  the  fish  shall 
haunt  mountain-ridge  and  river, 
while  bees  shall  feed  on  thyme 
and  grasshoppers  on  dew,  ever 
shall  thine  honour,  thy  name  and 
praise  endure.  As  to  the  Wine- 
god  and  the  Corn-goddess,  so  to 
thee  shall  the  husbandmen  make 
yearly  vows;  thou  likewise  shalt 
claim  their  payment. 


MOPSUS. 


How,  how  may  I  repay  the  gift 
of  such  a  song?  for  neither   the 


48 


THE  ECLOGUES 


whisper  of  the  gathering  South 
nor  the  wave  breaking  on  the 
beach  so  delights  me,  nor  streams 
that  race  down  amid  rocky  dells. 

MENALCAS. 

First  shall  this  brittle  hemlock- 
pipe  be  our  gift  to  thee :  the  pipe 
that  taught  us  Cory  don  biwned  for 
fair  Alexis,  and  withal  Who  is  the 
flock's  master  ?     Meliboeus  ? 

MOPSUS. 

But  take  thou  the  crook  that, 
often  as  he  besought  it,  Antigenes 
got  not  of  me,  and  then  he  was 
worth  loving,  beautiful  with  ranged 
studs  of  brass,  O  Menalcas. 


-f) 


t^ 


-A'^fAh 


2^="==^-^ 


& 


,'-^v  ^^^^^^^y^'^^^j^:  -'-ry^-'^ 


VI 

SILENUS 


^B^i^M 


Wj- 


The  Eclogue  opens  with  a 
dedication  to  the  Roman  general 
Varus,  which,  like  otlier  passages 
in  the  Eclogues,  contains  traces 
of  the  pressure  put  upon  Virgil 
by  some  of  the  great  men  of  the 
day  to  write  an  epic  poem  on  the 
civil  wars. 

Two  young  fauns,  Chromis  and 
Mnasyllus,  find  Silenus  sleeping 
in  a  cave,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  the  nymph  Aegle  extract  from 
him  a  song  that  he  has  often 
promised  them.  The  enchanted 
forests  and  wild  beasts  listen  as 
he  tells  of  the  cosmogony  and 
mythology  of  the  early  world. 
Into  the  mythological  narrative 
Virgil  weaves  one  of  his  ex- 
quisite compliments,  addressed  to 
his  friend  Gallus,  poet  as  well  as 
soldier,  whom  he  imagines  intro- 
duced upon  Parnassus  to  Apollo 
and  the  Muses,  and  presented  by 
the  ancient  poet  Linus  with  the 
pipe  of  Hesiod. 


s 


F 


VI. 
SILEXUS. 

FIRST  our  Thalia  deigned  to 
dally  with  the  verse  of  Syra- 
cuse, nor  blushed  to  dwell  in  the 
woodland.  When  I  was  singing 
of  kings  and  battles,  the  Cynthian 
twitched  my  ear  and  counselled 
me :  A  shepherd,  Tityrus,  should 
feed  fat  sheep  but  utter  a  slender 
song.  Now  will  I— for  thou  wilt 
have  many  who  long  to  utter  thy 
praises,  Varus,  and  to  chronicle 
dreadful  wars — brood  on  my  slim 
pipe  over  the  Muse  of  the  country. 
Yet  if  one,  if  one  there  be  to  read 
this  also  for  love  of  it,  of  thee,  O 
Varus,  our  tamarisks,  of  thee  all 
the  forest  shall  sing;  nor  is  any 
page  dearer  to  Phoebus  than  that 
which  writes  in  front  of  it  Varus' 


_.I^X_.- 


THE  ECLOGUES 


Proceed,  maidens  of  Pieria.  The 
boys  Chromis  and  Mnasylos  saw 
Silenus  lying  asleep  in  a  cavern, 
his  veins  swollen  as  ever  with  the 
wine  of  yesterday:  just  apart  lay 
the  garlands  slid  from  his  head, 
and  the  heavy  wine-jar  hung  liy 
its  worn  handle.  Falling  on  him, 
for  often  the  old  man  had  mocked 
them  both  with  expectation  of  a 
song,  they  fetter  him  in  his  own 
garlands.  Aegle  joins  company 
and  reinforces  their  faint  courage, 
Aegle  fairest  of  the  Naiads;  and, 
now  his  eyes  are  open,  stains  his 
brow  and  temples  with  blood-red 
mulberries.  He,  laughing  at  their 
wiles,  cries,  Why  tie  these  bonds  .'* 
release  me,  boys :  enough  that  you 
fancied  you  were  so  strong.  Mark 
the  songs  you  desire;  for  you 
songs,  for  her  shall  be  another 
payment.     And  with  that  he  be- 


THE  ECLOGUES 


53 


gins.  Then  indeed  thou  mightest 
see  Fauns  and  wild  creatures 
sporting  in  measure,  then  massy 
oaks  swaying  their  tops :  nor  so 
much  does  the  Parnassian  cliff 
rejoice  in  Phoebus  nor  so  much 
Rhodope  and  Ismarus  marvel  at 
Orpheus. 

For  he  sang  how  throughout  the 
vast  void  were  gathered  together 
the  seeds  of  earth  and  air  and  sea, 
and  withal  of  fluid  fire;  how  from 
these  originals  all  the  beginnings 
of  things  and  the  young  orbed 
world  itself  grew  together;  then 
began  to  harden  its  floor  and  set 
ocean-bars  to  Nereus  and  grad- 
ually take  shape  in  things:  while 
now  earth  in  amaze  sees  the  new- 
born sun  rise  shining  higher,  and 
the  rains  fall  as  the  clouds  uplift; 
when  the  forests  first  begin  to 
spring,   and   when    live    creatures 


roam  thinly  over  the  unknown 
hills.  Next  he  tells  of  the  stones 
cast  by  Pyrrha,  of  the  realm  of 
Saturn,  and  the  birds  of  Caucasus 
and  the  theft  of  Prometheus : 
thereto  he  adds  how  the  sailors 
called  on  Hylas  left  at  the  foun- 
tain till  Hylas!  Hylas!  echoed 
from  all  the  shore :  and  consoles 
Pasiphae  (happy,  had  herds  but 
never  been !)  with  the  love  of  her 
snowy  steer.  Ah  hapless  maiden, 
vv'hat  frenzy  hath  hold  of  thee.'' 
Proetus'  daughters  filled  the  fields 
with  counterfeited  lowings,  but  yet 
none  of  them  pursued  such  inhu- 
man and  shameful  union,  though 
her  neck  had  shuddered  as  from 
the  plough  and  she  often  had 
sought  for  horns  on  her  smooth 
forehead.  Ah  hapless  maiden, 
thou  now  wanderest  on  the  hills: 
he,  resting  his  snowy  side  on  soft 


S 


.rc(>7^^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


55 


hyacinih  blooms,  under  a  black 
ilex  munches  the  pale  grass,  or 
follows  one  among  the  vast  herd. 
Bar,  O  Nymphs,  Nymphs  of  Crete, 
bar  now  the  forest  glades,  if  haply 
that  steer's  wandering  footprints 
may  somewhere  meet  our  eyes ; 
peradventure  he,  either  lured  by 
green  herbage  or  following  the 
herds,  may  come  home  on  the 
cows'  track  to  the  yards  of 
Gortyna.  Then  he  sings  of  the 
maiden's  marvel  at  the  apples 
of  the  Hesperides :  then  enrings 
Phaethon's  sisters  with  moss  on 
bitter  bark,  and  makes  them  spring 
tall  in  alder  from  the  ground. 
Then  he  sings  how  as  Gallus 
strayed  by  the  streams  of  Per- 
messus,  one  of  the  sisterhood  led 
him  to  Aonian  hills,  and  how 
before  him  all  the  choir  of  Phoe- 
bus rose  up  ;  how  Linus  the  divine 


feM|#^: 


56 


THE  ECLOGUES 


shepherd-singer,  with  blossoms 
and  bitter  parsley  twined  in  his 
hair,  spoke  thus  to  him :  These 
pipes,  see,  take  them  !  the  Muses 
give  thee,  the  same  they  once  gave 
the  old  man  of  Ascra ;  wherewith 
he  was  wont,  singing,  to  draw 
down  stubborn  ash  trees  from  the 
hills.  On  these  be  told  by  thee 
the  birth  of  the  Grynean  forest, 
that  there  be  no  grove  in  which 
Apollo  shall  pride  himself  more. 
Why  should  I  tell  his  tale  of 
Nisus'  Scylla,  of  whom  after  fame 
saith  that  girt  with  barking  mon- 
sters round  her  white  loins  she 
harried  the  ships  of  Dulichium, 
and  deep  in  her  whirlpool,  ah  1 
tore  their  shivering  crews  with  her 
sea-hounds?  or  of  the  changed 
limbs  of  Tereus;  of  that  feast, 
that  gift  Philomela  made  ready 
for  him ;  of  her  flight  to  desolate 


><? 


^^l:^. 


^^-^Tltf 


THE  ECLOGUES 


57 


places,  and  of  the  wings  on  which 
she  wretchedly  hovered  high  in 
front  of  her  home  ? 

All  that  long  ago  happy  Eurotas 
heard  from  brooding  Phoebus  and 
bade  his  laurels  learn  by  heart,  he 
sings :  the  smitten  vales  echo  it 
to  the  sky :  till  bidding  the  sheep 
gather  to  their  cotes  and  their  tale 
be  told,  the  evening  star  advanced 
along  the  unwilling  heavens. 


\l 


m^m.^^^ 


VII 
M ELI  BO E us 


#^ 


Meliboeus,  while  fencing  his 
myrtles  from  the  cold  winds,  sees 
Daphnis  close  by  and  seated 
under  a  holm-oak.  Cor>'don  and 
Thyrsis  are  there  also,  about  to 
engage  in  a  singing-match.  Mel- 
iboeus relates  how  he  joined 
the  company,  and  listened  to 
the  rivals  during  their  contest. 
Corydon  shows  himself  the 
more  finished  performer;  the 
verses  of  Thyrsis,  both  in  taste 
and  execution,  are  rougher  and 
more  common.  Meliboeus  ac- 
cordingly ends  by  declaring  that 
on  that  day  Corydon  established 
his  claim  to  be  unsurpassed  on 
the  hillside  in  song. 


VII. 
MELII30EUS. 

Meliboeus.     Corydon. 
Thyrsis. 

LIGHTLY  had  Daphnis  sate 
down  beneath  a  whispering 
ilex,  and  Corydon  and  Thyrsis 
had  driven  their  flocks  together, 
Thyrsis  his  sheep,  Corydon  his 
milk-swoln  she-goats  ;  both  in  the 
blossom  of  age,  both  Arcadians, 
ready  to  sing  and  answer  verse 
for  verse.  Hither,  while  I  cov- 
ered my  delicate  myrtles  from 
the  frost,  my  he-goat,  lord  of  the 
flock,  had  wandered  down :  and  I 
espy  Daphnis  :  seeing  me  in  turn. 
Quick,  he  cries,  come  hither, 
Meliboeus !  thy  goat  and  kids  are 
safe;  and,  if  thou  canst  take 
holiday,  rest  under  the  shade : 
hither  come  the  bullocks  unherded 


W'h^'"^^-^ 


_-.:d)-^ 


^^:xJU):Mi^^i^(Md\^^:<S^  rr^ 


62 


THE  ECLOGUES 


# 


m 


across  the  meadows  to  drink  ;  here 
Mincius  lines  his  green  banks  with 
a  fringe  of  soft  rushes,  and  the 
swarming  bees  murmur  out  of  the 
holy  oak. 

What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  had  no 
Alcippe,  no  Phyllis  to  shut  in  the 
weanling  lambs  at  home ;  and 
Corydon  against  Thyrsis  was  a 
brave  match.  However,  I  put 
aside  my  business  for  their  pleas- 
ure. So  both  began  their  contest, 
in  alternate  verses,  since  such  the 
Muses  willed  them  to  remember. 
These  Corydon,  those  Thyrsis 
uttered  in  his  turn. 

CORYDON. 

Nymphs  of  Libethrus,  our  de- 
light, either  grant  me  such  a  song 
as  my  Codrus'  own  :  his  come  next 
to  the  verses  Phoebus  makes ;  or 
if  we  cannot  all  of  us  attain,  this 


hh^^c 


r-rv. 


Ufc^na^- 


THE  ECLOGUES 


63 


shrill  pipe   shall   hang  from   your 
holy  pine. 

THYRSIS. 

-<  Shepherds  of  Arcady,  deck  with 
ivy  your  rising  poet,  that  Codrus 
may  burst  his  gall  with  envy ;  or, 
if  he  praise  beyond  my  meed,  bind 
my  brows  with  foxglove,  lest  an 
evil  tongue  harm  the  bard  to  be. 

7  CORYDON. 

I  This  bristling  boar's  head  to 
I  thee,  maid  of  Delos,  and  the 
I  branching  antlers  of  a  long-lived 
stag  little  Micon  offers.  If  this 
thy  grace  abide,  all  in  smooth 
marble  thou  shalt  stand,  the 
crimson  buskin  laced  round  thine 
ankles. 


A  bowl  of  milk  and  these  cakes, 
O  Priapus,  yearly  is  enough  for 
thee  to  claim ;  thou  art  keeper  of 


^ 


64 


THE  ECLOGUES 


a  scanty  garden.  Now  we  have 
fashioned  thee  in  marble  for  the 
time :  but  do  thou,  if  lambing- 
time  fill  up  the  flock,  be  there  in 
gold. 

CORY  DON. 

Sea-Nymph  Galatea,  sweeter  to 
me  than  thyme  of  Hybla,  whiter 
than  the  swan,  lovelier  than  pale 
ivy,  so  soon  as  the  pastured  bulls 
seek  the  yard  again,  if  thou  carest 
aught  at  all  for  thy  Corydon, 
come ! 


»f^ 


Nay,  but  may  I  seem  to  thee 
bitterer  than  herbage  of  wSardinia, 
rougher  than  the  spiky  broom, 
more  worthless  than  stranded 
seaweed,  if  to-day  is  not  longer 
already  to  me  than  a  whole  year  : 
go  home  from  pasture,  for  very 
shame  go,  my  cattle. 


THE  ECLOGUES 


65 


CORYDON. 

Mossed  springs  and  grass  softer 
than  sleep,  and  green  arbutus  that 
covers  you  with  thin  shade,  shield 
the  midsummer  from  the  flock ; 
now  parching  summer  is  coming, 
now  the  buds  swell  on  the  glad 
vine-shoot. 

THYRSIS. 

Here  is  the  hearth  and  resinous 
billets ;  here  the  fire  ever  burns 
high  and  the  doorposts  are  black 
with  constant  soot :  here  we  care 
as  much  for  the  freezing  North  as 
the  wolf  for  the  flock's  multitude, 
or  rivers  in  flood  for  their  banks. 

CORYDON. 

Junipers  and  shaggy  chestnuts 
tower  up :  under  each  tree  lie 
strewn  her  fallen  apples.  All 
now  smiles ;  but  if  fair  Alexis  be 
absent  from  the  hills,  thou  wilt 
see  even  the  rivers  drv. 


THE  ECLOGUES 


THYRSIS. 

The  field  is  parched,  the  dying 
grass  thirsts  in  the  distempered 
air ;  the  wine-god  denies  the  slopes 
the  vine-tendrils'  shade:  at  our 
Phyllis'  coming  all  the  woodland 
will  be  green,  and  heaven  descend 
in  glad  and  abundant  showers. 

CORVDON. 

Alcides  takes  most  delight  in 
the  poplar,  lacchus  in  the  vine, 
fair  Venus  in  the  myrtle,  Phoebus 
in  his  own  bay -tree  :  Phyllis  loves 
hazels :  while  Phyllis  loves  them 
neither  shall  myrtle  excel  the 
hazels,  nor  Phoebus'  bay. 

THYRSIS. 

The  ash  is  most  beautiful  in  the 
forest,  the  pine  in  the  garden,  the 
poplar  by  the  river,  the  fir  on  the 
mountain  heights:  but  if  thou 
come  back  yet  again  to  me,  O  fair 


[^'Alft-^.S#-^S 


THE  ECLOGUES 


^1 


Lycidas,  the  forest  ash,  the  garden 
pine  shall  yield  to  thee. 

These  songs  I  remember,  and 
how  Thyrsis  strove  for  victory  in 
vain :  henceforth  Corydon,  Cory- 
don  is  ours. 


^1 


^^.s^^^ 


^-,^: 


tM^'S^- 


gl  ^^^" 


.^ 


^f). 


VIII 
THE    SORCERESS 


w 


^^'rf<s:^^'-:^- 


This  Eclogue  is  dedicated  to 
Pollio  on  his  return  from  a 
victorious  campaign  in  lUyria. 
Virgil,  often  pressed,  as  it  would 
seem,  to  write  on  martial  themes, 
still  continues  to  escape  in  a  cloud 
of  graceful  compliment. 

The  subject  of  the  Eclogue 
consists  of  two  love-songs,  placed 
in  the  mouths  of  Damon  and 
Alphesiboeus. 

The  first  is  the  complaint  of 
an  unhappy  shepherd  of  Mount 
Maenalus,  who,  after  describing 
his  ill-fated  passion  for  the  faith- 
less Nysa,  ends  by  flinging  himself 
into  the  sea. 

The  second  is  the  love-incan- 
tation of  a  Thessalian  girl,  who 
has  called  magic  to  her  assistance 
in  order  to  bring  back  to  her 
cottage  her  truant  lover  Daphnis. 

Each  song  has  a  recurring 
refrain,  framed  on  the  model  of 
Theocritus. 


^^^.J^^^i; 


VIII. 


THE   SORCERESS. 
Damon.    Alphesiboeus. 

The  Muse  of  the  shepherds  Da- 
mon and  Alphesiboeus,  at  whose 
strife  the  wondering  heifer  forgot 
the  grass,  at  whose  song  the  lynx 
stood  breathless  and  the  changed 
streams  stilled  their  current,  the 
Muse  of  Damon  and  Alphesiboeus 
we  will  tell. 

Thou,  my  friend,  whether  thou 
climbest  now  great  Timavus'  rocks 
or  dost  skirt  the  coast  of  the 
Illyrian  sea,  ah  shall  ever  the  day 
come  when  I  may  tell  of  thy 
deeds  ?  ah  shall  it  come  that  I 
may  blason  over  all  the  world  thy 
strains  that  alone  challenge  the 
buskin  of  Sophocles  ?  From  thee 
I  began ;  in  thee  shall  I  cease  : 
take  the  songs  that  were  essayed 


m. 


72 


THE  ECLOGUES 


at  thy  commands,  and  let  this  ivy 
curl  among  the  conqueror's  laurel 
around  thy  brows. 

The  chill  shadow  of  night  had 
hardly  retreated  from  the  sky, 
when  the  dew  on  the  tender  grass 
is  sweetest  to  the  flock :  Damon, 
leaning  on  his  smooth  olive-staff, 
thus  began : 

Rise,  Morning  Star,  and  herald 
in  the  gracious  day,  while,  beguiled 
by  Love's  tyranny,  I  complain 
over  Nisa  the  bride,  and  though 
it  has  availed  me  nothing  that  the 
gods  were  witnesses,  yet  in  this 
utmost  hour  call  on  them  as  I  die. 

Begin  with  me,  my  flute,  the 
verses  of  Maenalus. 

Maenalus  ever  keeps  his  vocal 
forest  and  talking  pines :  ever  he 
hears  the  loves  of  shepherds,  and 
Pan  who  of  yore  would  not  let  the 
reeds  lie  idle. 


^-^ 


I 


1^-^rr 


THE  ECLOGUES 


73 


Begin  with  me,   my   flute,   the 

verses  of  Maenalus. 

Mopsus  gets  Nisa :  what  may 
we  lovers  not  look  for  ?  now  will 
gryphons  couple  with  horses,  and 
in  following  time  shy  fallow  deer 
come  with  the  hounds  to  drink. 
Mopsus,  cut  fresh  torches :  for 
thee  the  wife  is  led  home.  Scat- 
ter nuts,  O  bridegroom:  for  thee 
Oeta  lets  free  the  Evening  Star. 

Begin  with  me,  my  flute,  the 
verses  of  Maenalus. 

O  wedded  to  thy  mate !  while 
thou  scornest  all  the  world,  and 
while  my  pipe  and  while  my  she- 
goats  annoy  thee,  and  my  shaggy 
eyebrows  and  untrimmed  beard, 
nor  fanciest  thou  that  any  god 
cares  for  human  things. 

Begin   with   me,  my   flute,   the 
f      verses  of  Maenalus. 
j  In  our  orchard-close  I  saw  thee. 


^;ckt:^ 


74  THE  ECLOGUES 


a  little  girl  with  her  mother — I 
guided  you  both — gathering  apples 
wet  with  dew:  the  next  year  after 
eleven  had  just  received  me :  I 
could  just  reach  the  brittle 
branches  from  the  ground.  As 
I  saw,  how  I  perished,  how  the 
fatal  craze  swept  me  away  1 

Begin  with  me,  my  flute,  the 
verses  of  Maenalus. 

Now  I  know  what  Love  is:  on 
iron  flints  of  Tmaros  or  Rhodopc 
or  the  utmost  Garamants  is  he 
born,  no  child  of  our  kin  or 
blood. 

Begin  with  me,  my  flute,  the 
verses  of  Maenalus. 

Fierce  Love  taught  the  mother 
to  dabble  her  hands  with  her  chil- 
dren's blood :  cruel  thou  too,  O 
mother!  Crueller  the  mother  or 
the  boy  insatiate  ?  insatiate  the 
boy;  cruel  thou  too,  O  mother! 


«f^Jhr:^dl-^^^t  ,>¥^^h^~^ 


1 


THE  ECLOGUES 


75 


Begin  with  me,  my  flute,  the 
verses  of  Maenalus, 

Now  even  let  the  wolf  flee 
unchased  before  the  sheep ;  let 
gnarled  oaks  bear  apples  of  gold : 
let  the  alder  flower  into  narcissus, 
and  rich  amber  ooze  from  tamarisk 
bark  :  yes,  let  screech-owls  vie  with 
swans,  let  Tityrus  be  Orpheus, 
Orpheus  in  the  forest,  Arion 
among  the  dolphin  shoals — 

Begin  with  me,  my  flute,  the 
verses  of  Maenalus. 

Even  let  mid-ocean  cover  all. 
Farewell,  O  woodlands !  from  my 
watchtower  aloft  on  the  hill  I  will 
plunge  headlong  into  the  waves : 
keep  thou  this  my  last  gift  as  I  die. 

Cease,  O  flute,  cease  now  the 
verses  of  Maenalus. 

Thus  Damon :  you,  maidens  of 
Pieria,  tell  of  Alphesiboeus'  reply  : 
we  cannot  all  do  everything. 


^.(^^ 

V                       A^ 

^p- 

,1 

>  76 

THE  ECLOGUES 

i — 

1 

Fetch    water 
the  altars  here 

forth, 
with 

and 
the  i 

twine         A 
50ft   fil-          J 

(i 


let,  and  burn  resinous  twigs  and 
male  frankincense,  that  I  may 
try  by  magic  rites  to  turn  my 
lover's  sense  from  sanity :  noth- 
ing is  wanting  now  but  the 
songs. 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

Songs  have  might  even  to  draw 
down  the  moon  from  heaven: 
with  songs  Circe  transformed  the 
crew  of  Ulysses:  by  singing  the 
cold  snake  is  burst  asunder  in  the 
meadows. 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

Threefold  first  I  twine  about 
thee  these  diverse  triple-hued 
threads,  and  thrice  round  these 
altars  I  draw  thine  image:  an 
odd  number  is  god's  delight. 


f 


^.^.iTft^ 


THE  ECLOGUES  77      G:J7>3 


Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 

draw  Daphnis  home. 

Tie  the  threefold  colours  in 
three  knots,  Amaryllis,  but  tie 
them :  and  say,  '  I  tie  Venus' 
bands.' 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

As  this  clay  stiffens  and  as  this 
wax  softens  in  one  and  the  self- 
same fire,  so  let  Daphnis  do  for 
love  of  me.  Sprinkle  barley-meal, 
and  kindle  the  brittle  bay-twigs 
with  bitumen.  Cruel  Daphnis 
bums  me :  I  burn  this  bay  at 
Daphnis. 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

So  may  Daphnis  love,  as  when 
the  heifer,  weary  with  seeking  the 
steer  through  woodland  and  high 
grove,  sinks  on  the  green  sedge 
by  a  water  brook,  in  misery,  and 


78 


THE  ECLOGUES 


recks  not  to  retire  before  the  fall- 
ing night :  so  may  love  hold  him, 
nor  may  I  care  to  heal. 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

This  dress  he  wore  of  old  the 
traitor  left  me,  dear  pledges  of 
himself  :  which  now  I  even  in  the 
doorway,  O  earth,  commit  to  thee  : 
for  these  pledges  Daphnis  is  the 
debt. 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

These  herbs,  and  these  poisons 
gathered  in  Pontus,  Moeris  him- 
self gave  me  ;  in  Pontus  they  grow 
thickest.  By  their  might  I  have 
often  seen  Moeris  become  a  wolf 
and  plunge  into  the  forest,  often 
seen  him  call  up  souls  from  their 
deep  graves,  and  transplant  the 
harvests  to  where  they  were  not 
sown. 


i.-^.j'   -"^2^ 


THE  ECLOGUES 


79 


Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

Fetch  ashes,  Amaryllis,  out  of 
doors,  and  fling  them  across  thy 
head  into  the  running  brook  :  and 
look  not  back.  With  these  I  will 
assail  Daphnis :  nothing  cares  he 
for  gods,  nothing  for  songs. 

Draw  from  the  city,  my  songs, 
draw  Daphnis  home. 

See !  the  embers  on  the  altar 
have  caught  with  a  flickering 
flame,  themselves,  of  their  own 
accord,  while  I  delay  to  fetch 
them.  Be  it  for  good  !  something 
there  is  for  sure  ;  and  Hylax  barks 
in  the  doorway.  May  we  believe  ? 
or  do  lovers  fashion  dreams  of 
their  own  ? 

Forbear  :  from  the  city,  forbear 
now,  my  songs,  Daphnis  comes. 


\-^ 


y^-J^ 


c:^^?-.'v#:^^, 


IX 

M  0  E  R I S 


'^'^■S^^r'.^^  ^^•:>V?  ^^^^li 


A  fresh  civil  war  has  broken  out 
in  Northern  Italy  since  the  events 
to  which  allusion  was  made  in 
Eclogue  I.  At  its  close  a  second 
band  of  military  settlers  are  again 
seizing  on  the  farms  in  Virgil's 
neighbourhood.  The  wrath  of  the 
conquerors  falls  on  the  unfortu- 
nate town  of  Cremona,  and  Man- 
tua, Virgil's  birthplace,  near  which 
lay  the  poet's  property,  is  threat- 
ened with  a  fate  like  that  of 
Cremona  her  neighbour  by  the 
army  of  the  victorious  Varus. 
The  lands  of  Virgil  had  been 
confirmed  to  him  by  the  favour 
of  Augustus,  but  the  story  goes 
that  he  nearly  lost  his  life  in 
protecting  them  against  this  ma- 
rauding soldiery. 

The  Eclogue  opens  with  a  pict- 
ure of  two  Mantuan  shepherds, 
Lycidas  and  Moeris  on  their  way 
together  to  the  town.  They  con- 
verse upon  the  troubles  of  the 
times,  and  on  the  narrow  escape 
of  Moeris's  master,  the  poet  Men- 
alcas,  a  rustic  name  under  wliich 
Virgil  himself  is  designated. 


(^h0imm§^4 


■wi 


w 


IX. 
MOERIS. 

Lycidas.     Moeris. 

LYCIDAS. 

HITHER  footest  thou,  Moeris  ? 
leads  thy  way  townward  ? 

MOERIS. 

O  Lycidas,  we  live  to  have  come 
to  this,  what  we  never  feared,  that 
an  intruder  in  our  little  fields 
should  say,  These  are  mine ;  hence 
with  you,  old  freeholders !  Now 
crushed  and  sorrowing,  since  all 
goes  with  Fortune's  wheel,  these 
kids  (small  joy  may  he  have 
thereof !)  we  are  sending  to  him. 


Surely  I  had  heard  that,  where 
the  hills  begin  to  retire  and  lower 
their  ridge  in  a  soft  slope,  even  to 
the  waterside  and  the  old  beeches 


84 


THE  ECLOGUES 


that  now  moulder  atop,  your 
Menalcas  had  saved  all  the  land 
by  his  songs. 

MOERIS. 

You  had ;  and  so  rumour  ran. 
But  songs  of  ours,  Lycidas,  have 
no  more  power  among  warring 
arms  than  Chaonian  doves,  as 
they  say,  when  the  eagle  comes. 
Had  not  a  raven  from  the  hollow 
ilex  on  my  left  forewarned  me  to 
cut  short  my  young  suit  as  best 
I  could,  neither  thy  Moeris  nor 
Menalcas  himself  were  alive  and 
here. 

LYCIDAS. 

Alas  !  can  such  wickedness  come 
over  any  one?  alas  for  thee  and 
our  comfort  in  thee,  Menalcas,  so 
nearly  lost  to  us  I  Who  would 
sing  the  nymphs  ?  who  strew  the 
ground  with  blossoming  plants,  or 
train  green  shade  over  the  springs  ? 


^"%r^^^,-^^k  ':^^,d' 


THE  ECLOGUES  85 

or  those  songs  I  caught  of  late 
from  thse  on  thy  way  to  our  darling 
Amaryllis:  Tityrus,  while  I  return, 
(short  is  the  way,)  feed  the  she- 
goats  ;  and  drive  them  full-fed  to 
drink,  Tityrus  ;  and  amid  the  work, 
take  heed  of  crossing  the  he-goat ; 
he  strikes  with  his  horn.  "t^ 

MOERIS.  J], 

Nay  these  rather,  which  yet  un-  v 
finished  he  sang  to  Varus  :  Varus, 
thy  name,  if  but  our  Mantua 
survive,  Mantua  ah  too  near  a 
neighbour  to  unhappy  Cremona, 
singing  swans  shall  bear  aloft  to 
the  stars.  t. 

LYCIDAS. 

So  may  thy  swarms  shun  yews 
of  Corsica,  so  may  cytisus  pasture 
swell  the  udders  of  thy  kine,  begin 
with  what  thou  hast.  Me  also  the 
maidens   of    Pieria   have  made   a 


^  n^.,^ 


86 


THE  ECLOGUES 


t 


poet :  I  also  have  songs  :  even  me 
the  shepherds  call  a  singer ;  but  I 
believe  them  not.  For,  I  think, 
I  utter  as  yet  nothing  worthy  of 
Varius  or  of  Cinna,  a  cackling 
goose  among  these  swans  of  song. 

MOERIS. 

So  I  do,  Lycidas,  and  am  think- 
ing over  silently  with  myself  if  I 
may  avail  to  remember ;  and  it  is 
no  mean  song. 

Come  hither,  O  Galatea :  what 
sport  is  among  the  waves  .?  Here 
spring  glows,  here  round  the 
streams  the  ground  breaks  into 
many  a  flower ;  here  the  silver- 
white  poplar  leans  over  the  cavern 
and  trailing  vines  weave  a  covert 
of  shade.  Come  hither ;  leave 
the  mad  billows  to  beat  on  the 
shore. 

LYCIDAS. 

How  of  what  I  once  heard  thee 


^,:; 


^. 


THE  ECLOGUES 


87 


singing  alone  under  the  clear 
night  ?  I  remember  the  notes, 
had  I  the  words. 


Daphnis,  why  gaze  up  on  the 
ancient  risings  of  the  signs  ?  lo 
the  star  of  Caesar,  Dione's  child, 
has  advanced,  the  star  whereunder 
fields  should  rejoice  in  corn  and 
the  grape  gather  colour  on  sunny 
hills.  Engraft  thy  pear-trees, 
Daphnis  ;  thy  children's  children 
shall  pluck  their  fruit. 

Time  runs  away  with  all  things, 
the  mind  too:  often  I  remember 
how  in  boyhood  I  outwore  long 
sunlit  days  in  singing:  now  I 
have  forgotten  so  many  a  song : 
Moeris  is  losing  his  voice  too ; 
wolves  have  caught  first  sight  of 
Moeris ;  but  yet  Menalcas  will 
repeat  them  to  thee  oft  enough. 


88 


THE  ECLOGUES 


Thy  talking  prolongs  our  de- 
sire :  and  now,  see,  all  the  mere  is 
smooth  and  still,  and  all  the  windy 
murmur  of  the  breeze,  look,  is 
sunk  away.  Just  from  this  point 
is  half  our  road,  for  Bianor's  tomb 
begins  to  show :  here,  where  rus- 
tics strip  the  thick -leaved  sprays, 
here,  Moeris,  let  us  sing ;  here  set 
down  thy  kids;  for  all  that,  we 
shall  reach  the  town.  Or  if  we 
fear  lest  night  ere  then  gather  to 
rain,  we  may  go  singing  all  the 
way,  and  the  road  weary  us  the 
less:  that  we  may  go  singing,  I 
will  lighten  thee  of  this  bundle. 


Cease  thou  further,  O  boy,  and 
let  us  do  our  present  business : 
when  he  is  come  himself,  we  will 
sing  his  songs  better  then. 


^.r\- 


CALLUS 


•^■^/^■•-*%r^3  *^v   -^  •' 5^ 


c:(bn._. 


^^;«p^A^^  ^  ^  ^. 


The  Eclogue  is  devoted  to 
Gallus,  soldier,  poet,  friend  of 
Virgii,  and,  as  it  would  appear, 
an  unhappy  lover.  Lycoris,  his 
love,  has  deserted  him  for  a 
more  favoured  brother  in  arms, 
and  Gallus  is  pourtrayed  lying 
under  a  mountain  rock,  lost  in 
tears  and  despair,  while  his  sheep 
stand  mournfully  around  him.  He 
is  visited  by  the  shepherds,  as 
also  by  Apollo,  Pan,  and  Silvanus, 
rustic  deities,  who  endeavour  to 
console  him,  but  in  vam. 

To  Englisli  readers  the  Eclogue 
must  always  be  of  special  interest, 
since,  inspired  itself  by  Theocritus, 
it  has  served  in  turn  as  an  inspira- 
tion for  Milton's  "  Lycidas."  It 
begins  with  an  invocation  of  the 
river  or  fountain  Arethusa,  the 
story  of  whose  flight  under  the  sea 
from  the  river  Alpheus  will  be 
familiar  to  readers  of  Shelley. 


-o-^.„ 


-r-f 


^ 


X. 


GALLUS. 


THIS  last  labour,  Arethusa, 
grant  to  me :  verses  must 
be  sung  for  my  Gallus,  few,  yet»^' 
such  as  Lycoris'  self  may  read  : 
who  would  deny  verses  to  Gallus  ? 
So,  when  thou  slidest  under  Sicilian 
waters,  may  bitter  Doris  not  mingle 
her  wave  with  thine.  Begin ;  let 
us  tell  of  Gallus'  weary  loves, 
while  the  flat-nosed  she-goats  crop 
the  tender  bushes.  We  sing  not 
to  deaf  ears  ;  the  forests  repeat  all. 
What  woods  or  what  lawns 
held  you,  Naiad  girls,  while  Gallus 
pined  in  love's  tyranny?  for  not 
on  Parnassus,  for  not  on  Pindus' 
slopes  did  you  linger,  nor  by 
Aonian  Aganippe.  Him  even 
laurels,  even  tamarisks  wept  : 
him,  as  he  lay  beneath  a  lonely 


.T  cO?  T\    


^^ 


92  THE  ECLOGUES 

cliff,    even     Maenalus    with     his 
crown    of    pines    wept,   and    the 
rocks     of     chill      I.ycaeus.     The 
sheep  too   stand   round ;    nor  are 
they  ashamed  of  us,  nor  be  thou 
ashamed   of   thy   flock,  O  divine 
Ji^;,      poet :   even  fair  Adonis  pastured 
T|f'      sheep  by  the  river.     Came  too  the 
u,       keeper  of  the  sheep:  slow-pacing 
^,         came  tjie  neatherds :  dripping  from 
the  winter  acorns  Menalcas  came. 
All    ask,    Whence    this    love   of 
i^|,    thine  ?    Apollo  came :  Callus,  why 
''f^Vi    this  madness  ?   he  said :    thy  love 
Lycoris  amid  the  snows  and  amid 
the  rough  camp  has  followed  an- 
other.    Came   too   Silvanus  with 
rustic  bravery  on  his  head,  shak- 
ing   his    blossomed    fennels   and 
large   lilies.     Pan  god  of  Arcady 
came,  whom  our  eyes  have  seen, 
red  with  blood-stained  elder-berries 
and  vermilion.     Shall  there  be  a 


m 


. y'^r_-„ 


THF.  ECLOGUES  93 

limit?  he  said:  Love  recks  not 
aught  of  this.  Neither  is  cruel 
Love  satiated  with  tears,  nor  the 
grasses  with  the  rills,  nor  bees 
with  cytisus,  nor  she-goats  with 
leafage.  But  sadly  he :  Yet  you 
will  be  singing,  O  Arcadians,  to 
your  hills  of  this  :  alone  Arcadians 
are  skilled  to  sing.  Ah  how  softly 
then  may  my  ashes  rest,  if  your 
pipe  once  may  tell  of  my  loves. 
And  would  God  I  had  been  one 
of  you,  and  yours  been  the  flock  I 
kept  or  the  ripe  grapes  of  my  vint- 
age 1  surely  Phyllis,  were  it  so,  or 
Amyntas  or  whosoever  were  my 
passion  (what  then,  if  Amyntas 
be  swarthy  ?  violets  too  are  dark 
and  dark  are  hyacinths)  would  lie 
with  me  among  the  osiers  beneath  ;:'.  ; 
a  trailing  vine  :  Phyllis  would  pluck  -i# 
me  coronals,  Amyntas  would  sing. 
Here  are  chill  springs,  here  soft 


f 


HV- 


THE  ECLOGUES 


meadows,    O    Lycoris :    here    the 
j      woodland  :  here  with  wasting  time 
f ,.    I    too    at   thy   side   would   waste 
p^   away.     Now  a  mad  passion  holds 
I       thee  down  among  the  hard  War- 
:       god's  arms,  encircled  by  weapons 
and  confronting  foes.     Thou,  far 
from  home  (let  me  not  quite  be- 
lieve  it !)    alone,   without  me,  ah 
'\^j    cruel,    lookest   on    Alpine   snows 
%>'        and  the  frosts  of  the  Rhine.     Ah 
/V         may  the  frosts  not  hurt  thee  !    Ah 
may   the   rough   ice    not  cut  thy 
delicate  feet !     I  will  be  gone,  and 
the   songs    I   fashioned   in    Chal- 
cidian    verse    I    will    set    to    the 
Sicilian  shepherd's  reed :  resolved 
in   the   woods,    among    the    wild 
beasts'  dens,   to   embrace  endur- 
.  '':J*,     ance,  and  to  cut  my  loves  on  the 
\iii/'     ^^^^^^^  trees ;    with    their   growth 
%YA     you,  O  loves,  will  grow.     Mean- 
""«      while  I  will  range  Maenahis  amid 


•nOs^ 


THE  ECLOGUES  95 

the  rout  of  Nymphs,  or  hunt  the 
keen  wild  boar;  no  rigour  of  cold 
shall  forbid  me  to  encircle  Par- 
thenian  glades  with  my  hounds. 
Even  now  I  think  I  pass  among 
rocks  and  echoing  groves,  and 
delight  to  send  the  Cretan  arrow 
spinning  from  a  Parthian  bow :  as  VjT 
if  this  could  be  healing  of  our  '  ■' 
madness,  or  that  God  could  learn 
to  soften  at  mortal  griefs !  Now 
neither  Hamadryads  once  more 
nor  songs  themselves  delight  us : 
once  more,  O  forests,  yourselves 
retire.  Him  toils  of  ours  cannot 
change  ;  neither  if  in  the  mid-frosts 
we  drink  of  Hebrus  and  abide 
the  rainy  winter  among  Sithonian 
snows;  nor  if  while  the  dying 
bark  scorches  on  the  lofty  elm,  we 
guide  Aethiopian  sheep  beneath  ' 
the  tropic.  Love  conquers  all : 
let  us  too  yield  to  Love. 


r'D^^^ 


<" 

^ 


96  THE  ECLOGUES 


This  shall  suffice,  goddesses  of 
Pieria,  that  your  poet  has   sung 
W_,     while  he  sate  and  wove  a  basket 
^^=^    of  slim   mallow  shoots:   you  will 
1 1       make  this  precious  for  Gallus  :  for 
j  Gallus,  love  of  whom  grows  in  me 

^^r        as  fast  every  hour  as  the  green 
vff      alder   shoots   up  when   spring   is 
■     ili    young.     Let  us  arise ;  the  shade 
\m    ^^  wont  to  be  heavy  on  singers: 
the  juniper  shade  is  heavy :  shade 
too  hurts  the  corn.     Go  home  full- 
fed,  the  Evening  Star  comes,  go, 
my  she-goats. 


rt't?' 


i 


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